You Don't Have To Be Brave
by heysavy
Summary: Awkward fic about Puck seeing his dad for the first time since he was 7, and the similar dismissal.


Puck inhaled deep as he took a drag of the cigarette in his hand, and watched the smoke fade to circles as he pushed it from his lungs. He glanced around the corner of his truck, making sure he wasn't being seen. Finn hated it when he smoked. He'd gone a while without it, actually, until recently. A week ago, his dad came back.

His dad had bailed on him and his mom and sister when Puck was a kid. Maybe 7 or so. He was forced to grow up so fast. To be the man of the house, because now who else was going to? He took on all the extra chores in the house – laundry, trash, dishes – anything he could to help his mom. She already had his little sister to worry about, she didn't need to worry about him, too.

But when he wasn't at home, Puck wasn't so brave. He tried to be, he really did. But all the time he spent with Finn, Finn just knew. They'd go for walks after school and Puck would just seem…sad.

Puck smiled for a moment, thinking about how, even as kids, Finn was always the one he turned to.

Finn would take his hand in his on the afternoons that Puck seemed sad, and just held it, wouldn't let it go. Even as a kid Finn knew that Puck wasn't that emotionally available, and especially not then, after he'd just watched his dad's truck disappear down the road without even so much as a glance back.

And he still wasn't. As much as he'd opened up to Finn, as much as Finn knew about him and his past, he still kept that distance. Even now, when the two of them were together. He shouldn't have to keep distant. He _doesn't_ have to, but he doesn't know any other way than to internalize it, keep the big stuff to himself.

He heard Finn's voice coming his way, and he flicked the cigarette a safe distance away from his truck, taking out a breath mint so Finn wouldn't notice the taste on his tongue. As Puck opened the driver door, he quickly cupped his hands over his mouth and took a swift exhale out, just to be sure, before meeting Finn at the center console for a kiss. He studied Finn's face for a moment. As long as he didn't turn up his nose, he knew he was in the clear. Nothing. Good.

Puck hadn't told Finn yet, about his dad being back. He hadn't told anyone at all. Not even his mom, who hadn't been at the liquor store that night, for obvious reasons, when Puck caught a glance of his dad from the mirror camera behind the counter.

He was just…there. Staring right at him, and he didn't even fucking know it. Why would he, though? In all the years he'd been gone, he'd not even sent so much as a birthday card. Not one, not ever. So why, even if he had realized he was inadvertently staring at someone, would he have even thought it could be his son?

But Puck knew. Oh, he knew, and he had grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels in the brown paper bag so quickly that the guy behind the register shot him a weird look as Puck threw open the door and ran out. Straight to his truck, and straight to Finn's house.

Finn knew Puck seemed a bit out of sorts that night, but it wasn't anything unusual for Puck to show up with a bottle of Jack and ask Finn if he's up for a ride. Nor was it unusual how much Puck had to drink that night. And that pattern continued, every day for the next week.

Tonight, though, tonight was an accident. He'd dropped Finn off after school and told him he'd call him later, that he had something to do so he couldn't stay. He almost felt bad about not smiling back at Finn as he'd walked up the driveway, because he knew that Finn was on to something. He probably didn't know what, he never did, but he knew something was weird.

So Puck sat in the parking lot of the liquor store, just waiting. If he was anything like his dad, and part of him said that he was, his dad would show up tonight, full of something, _shit probably_, and in need of some more Jack.

Half a cigarette down and sure enough, there's the car. Not a bad one, actually. Like he'd done okay for himself, whatever that meant. He watched as the man went into the store, and out again five minutes later.

_Fuck it_ he thought, and he got out of his truck and headed to the other car, not sure yet what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn't just do nothing. He'd been doing nothing for 9 years, and now that he had the opportunity to do _something_ he was damn sure going to.

He was stopped abruptly, not even getting a single word out, when the man saw Puck walking toward him and nearly dropped the bottle on the ground. He looked like a deer in headlights, _busted_, and he knew he was. So he ducked into his car, fast, and drove off.

And Puck knew, then, that his dad had seen him. Looked right at him and dismissed him, just like he had when he was 7. So he lit another cigarette and drove to Finn's house, slamming a fist on the steering wheel every few minutes or so, probably to keep from crying.

It was late when he pulled into Finn's driveway, and he didn't want to wake the others, so he sent Finn a text telling him to come down and meet him at the truck, and _is it cool if I stay with you tonight?_ As if it were something he needed permission for.

He must have been crying, or shaken up at least, because when Finn reached him at the driver side door of the truck, he pulled Puck in tight, stroking the strip of hair down the center of his head, and walked him into the house and up the stairs to his room.

"Puck, dude, what's wrong?" Finn grabbed Puck's hand, just the way he did as kids the day his dad left. Puck imagined he looked about the same then as he does now, only taller.

"I saw him", Puck said, the words nearly choking as they escaped his lips. "I fucking saw my dad. He's been here at least a week" and Puck went to light another cigarette, completely forgetting where he was.

Finn took it, and the rest of the pack from his jacket pocket, and tossed them on the floor. He'd get to that in a minute, but right now Puck needed _him_ and not a lecture. He kissed Puck's forehead, because what else was he going to do? He was about as good at this now as he was 9 years ago, so he just held Puck, rocking him back and forth slightly, stroking his 'hawk gently like his mom used to do to him as a kid when he was upset.

It seemed to be working, because Puck's breathing slowed to an almost normal level. Puck looked up at Finn, right into his hazel eyes, and for a moment thought he was going to say something. _Why do you need to hear it_ he'd always ask, when Finn knew what he was thinking of saying. Like it was something that was just always implied, no words necessary. He should just know. And he did, of course. Finn always knew where he and Puck stood, so he never pressed the matter. But here, in this moment, he could see how close Puck was to saying it.

"I know, dude. I love you too". There, he didn't have to say it now. He could have, if he wanted to. But the pressure was off. He was under enough as it is.

And they just sat there, holding hands, Puck's head resting on Finn's shoulder like it did all those years ago. He didn't have to be brave, he just had to be here.


End file.
